


The Third Time

by Tricksterburd



Series: Blue and Green Eyes [2]
Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Blind Character, Blindess, Brotherly Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, War, blind, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksterburd/pseuds/Tricksterburd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Head trauma, as silly as it sounded, could put the Steam Man Band out of commission for a short period of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a chapter for "The Great Feels War of 2012." I'm starting a sort of series, of which this is a part. So I'm putting it as it's own work.

The first time Rabbit had lost his sight had been World War One. When mortars were flying and grenades being thrown and something had hit him in the back of the head. And he was out like the robotic light he was. Head trauma, as silly as it sounded, could put the Steam Man Band out of commission for a short period of time. And that’s what happened with Rabbit.

He lay on the battle field, a nasty dent in the back of his head, powered down. He has no idea how long he had been that way, his internal clock had also stopped recording time when he had been hit. A rock. It had been a rock. Thrown up from the explosion in the dirt just behind him. It had hit him with enough force to kill a man, and had wound up denting his copper head in enough to damage the delicate circuitry inside. 

But Colonel Peter A Walter the first was a smart man. The brains of his clever automatons were self repairing in some respects. While it couldn’t re-solder broken wires, while it couldn’t glue boards back together, it could rework how it fired. A portion of Rabbit’s circuitry (far far advanced for its time) was damaged, so the rest of his mechanical brain decided what parts would take over what functions until it could be repaired. And once everything was back in a decent amount of order, Rabbit powered back on.

And found nothing. Darkness spread all around him, in every direction. He looked up, and found no stars. He looked around, and found no guard fires, no cigarette lights. His optics, like that of the other Walter Robots, had been given lights. His optical sensors needed a certain percentage of light to see; while human eyes could see limited at night, his receptors could not pick up that low of light. So he, The Spine, and The Jon had been given eyes that glowed, allowing them to see around them in the same darkness humans could. Namely, the night. 

Oh sure they could see the moon and the stars in the sky above them. But would trip over the bush right in front of them because the moon couldn’t throw enough light for them to see it. 

But raising a hand to his face, Rabbit couldn’t see his fingers.

His first thought was that perhaps there was mud on his lenses, blocking light and sight. But a rub of his sleeve found nothing was blocking them. And a quick listen told him the battle still raged around him, so he couldn’t be alone.

He wasn’t alone.

The battle was still going on, and he was blind on the ground, unable to defend himself or help the soldiers he was sent to protect and heal. He was useless, trapped. Around him he could hear bombs dropping. Cannons firing. People, from both sides, screaming and crying out for help in their agony. He could hear his brothers calling for help.

“I need a gurney over here there’s too many for me to carry!”

“Gas canister on your three!”

“Keep pressure on that arm, where is Rabbit we need him!”

They needed him. And he couldn’t be there. He had bellows outfitted with filters that could help those near the gas. He was another pair of hands to help lift and move. He was second eyes to watch for attack. And he wasn’t there. 

“The Spine!” It was all he could think to do. Spine had people to attend to, he shouldn’t have to look out for his older brother. But Rabbit was reaching a state of loss that he didn’t know what to do with. All he wanted to do was help, but he needed help in return. “The Spine I’m here, Spine!”

Heavy feet were by him in moments, he could hear steam hiss as Spine knelt beside him.

“Rabbit come we need your help!”

“Spine I can’t- I can’t see.”

Something was moving in front of his face, his sensors were telling him that wind was rushing by. 

“Your receptors are glowing, you should be fine. This is no time for games.”

“I ca-ca-ca-ca-can’t _see_ The Spine.” Spine huffed in reply. “Something hit me and now I can’t see! Why won’t you believe me?!”

Resigned, Spine started to search Rabbit’s head, lifting the helmet carefully and peering around joints and vents until he did, indeed, find the hit.

“You’ve got a ding here alright, but it shouldn’t have made your optics go out. I can’t fix it here. Joseph! Here, lean on Rabbit. The two of you get back to the tent. Rabbit, Joe was shot in the arm and is b-bleeding badly. Have him guide you back while you keep him from bleeding out. Stay there and help as you can, but don’t come back on the field until we can fix you, alright?”

It took three days for Peter the third to reconnect the wires. The mass of wires that connected his photo receptors to his cranium circuitry. They had been shocked loose from the impact, the ones responsible for input data coming completely off their ports. He could see again.

The second time Rabbit had lost his sight had been Vietnam. They were tearing him apart, trying to figure out how he worked. It was him, or his brothers. He’d give his life for them. They shouldn’t have to live with the memories of war, of hate, of pain. That’s what older brothers were for; to protect their younger brothers. He might not always act like an older brother, but that’s what he was, and he took that charge very seriously.

He, once more, lost track of time. Spine was the one with the perfect time clock. Being run on clockwork, Rabbit’s wasn’t so perfect. If something went awry with his gears, his sense of time shifted as well. Peter had said they had been missing eight years. Rabbit could have sworn it was eight hundred. Caught in the dark, damp tunnels, taken apart piece by piece, it was almost a gift when his eyes had been taken from him.

Then he didn’t have to see the horrified faces of The Spine and The Jon each time they saw what a state he was put in by the humans that had captured them. 

Rabbit had gone mad, in the darkness. Last time it had only been a few days, and he had people to talk to, and wasn’t afraid that he wouldn’t wake up the next day. There, captured, he was afraid. Afraid he wouldn’t power back on. Afraid that his brothers would meet his same fate. Rabbit had turned mad. He had done unspeakable deeds all in the name of love for his robotic counterparts. 

And then they were saved. And he was powered off.

They did not power him back on until his eyes were replaced. Spine had made sure of that. 

“I can’t see him go through that again.” He had said. “He may be a horrible older brother but what he did there…”

Spine never did finish that train of thought for the humans.

The third time Rabbit had lost his sight had been the worst. He had gone from living in black and white, to living in color, and then back to grey. Now. Now it was just black. 

They were supposed to be peaceful, not supposed to fight anymore. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t do their part. They were entertainers, and had a soft spot for the military. So they, willingly, shipped themselves to the Middle East to entertain the troops. No fighting, not this time. They didn’t even put on camouflage. 

Though they had been encourage to do so.

And in the end that was what had caused it.

A rocket launcher. Who gave a bunch of cave dwelling psychopaths rocket launchers?! True, Rabbit didn’t understand the whole war thing going on, he didn’t really get who they were fighting against this time. Couldn’t really understand Vietnam either. These felt almost the same.

Their convoy had been blown, attacked. And Rabbit thought back to the dark tunnels where he had been prisoner. And he couldn’t let that happen again. 

Rabbit had shoved Spine into the sand, trying to cover him, keep him from reflecting and becoming a target even as the taller robot fought to keep himself standing. Jon had hidden under the vehicle they had come in, trying to keep himself from shouting in fear with each loud explosion that almost certainly spelled out their end. 

And then Rabbit saw it. On the hill above them, aiming the rocket at Spine, the easiest to see. Rabbit couldn’t let that happen. So he ran. Up the hill, grabbing, trying, hoping. He never knew what hit him.

They had options, Peter the sixth had explained when they had been shipped back home for repairs. The Spine’s faceplate could be replaced with some changes. The Jon’s joints could be emptied out of sand and modified to keep out dust, though his wig would need to be completely redone. The Spine agreed, allowing his faceplate to be exchanged. It was more robotic, the cheeks more inset than previously, lines a little more harsh than humans had. But he could live with it. He counted himself lucky this time. 

The Jon agreed, his joints and movement becoming just a hint more fluid than before, his balance being just a tad off that made leaning and running an adventure to re-learn. And his old wig had been cropped short to be rid of most of the sand and dirt while Wanda sewed and styled a new one. 

Rabbit was a different matter entirely. While Peter the sixth had Peter the first’s notes, he had none of his experience. And the updates to Rabbit weren’t as documented as they should have been, mostly because they had been made on-the-spot in battles and emergencies, or done by the robot himself. Peter could make new optics, but had no idea how to connect them. Rabbit’s head had taken the most damage from his run in. His arm and legs could be replaced easy. His boiler had been patched and refilled. But the missing photo receptors would have to be replaced once more. The problem was his circuitry. 

His skull had been damaged as well; the visual portion of his mechanical brain was lost somewhere in bits and pieces of burnt and twisted metal buried in the sand overseas. Peters the fifth and sixth would have to create new visual components to his brain. So they did. And were not compatible. 

Their creation didn’t take to Rabbit’s older circuitry. It was rejected so violently it burned a hole through his copper head. So the option was to completely rebuild and reprogram a new mind for him.  
  
The problem with that was compatibility once more. There was no guarantee that Rabbit’s memories and personality would transfer over from the damaged cortex to the new one. And even if it did, there’d be no way of knowing if it would control the antique gears and core until they knew if Rabbit was safely in the new brain. 

There were too many “ifs” and too many “maybes.” In the end, it was Rabbit’s decision to leave it. 

The eldest robot in the house that still worked (even if just) was blind. Wholly and totally blind. 

He sulked. It was to be expected. He sulked for a great many months, locked away in the attic, or the basement, avoiding people and only coming into “occupied” rooms when he needed water. He had trouble doing much of anything on his own now, mostly because he refused to learn. But he also refused to let anyone help him.

It was a stormy December before anything of use happened. The Jon went to look for Rabbit when the storm started. He always enjoyed having his oldest brother keep the memories of the wars past at bay, the memories that bangs and crashes of thunder only could bring up. Jon found Rabbit in Pappy’s old study. 

“W-w-w-w-w-what d’ya want Da Jon?” Rabbit asked when Jon called his name quietly. 

“It’s going to storm.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I was wondering if we could snuggle.” Rabbit sighed, turning away from the window, empty lights turning to his younger friend. Although they couldn’t see, it unnerved the humans to have empty holes in Rabbit’s head. So they put a spare set of green and blue lights in for him. He looked the same as ever to everyone else. Opening up an arm Rabbit silently invited Jon to join him on the floor by the window. Jon rushed over, curling up into his brother’s side. 

“I really like the rain.” Jon muttered some time later, after their first jumps at the thunder closing in on their home. “It’s really pretty.”

“I’m sure it is Jon.”

“The way it bounces off the roof and the puddles and the leaves.”

“I can’t see that Jon.”

“Yes you can.” Rabbit tensed. “You see it the way I do now.”

“I don’t have eyes Jon. How how how can I see it?”

“I don’t see it with my eyes. Well, I do. But I hear it too! Listen, it paints pictures.”

So Rabbit listened. He stopped hating himself and his inability to see, and listened. And indeed, after some time, he began to see pictures. He could hear the water SPLAT onto a leaf, then run off its tip to PLIP into a puddle below. And if he listened hard enough, he could see their shapes, and their colors. He recalled the green leaves that shimmered in the sun. He remembered the muddy greybrown water that would sit around for a while before drying up after a rain. And in his world of black, colors began to paint shapes. 

He saw the flat leaf appear in a flash of green before fading away with each drop of water that hit it. He could see the edged outlines of blue and grey water ripples with every drip that hit the ink below. Slowly, slowly, his world moved from one leaf and one puddle to several leaves, and several puddles. And with gaining speed he saw the tree, the roof, the grass, the glass. Colors.

Jon had unlocked a memory deep within Rabbit’s damaged circuit board brain, and introduced him to a world of color outlines created by sound. 

He didn’t even jump at the thunder the next time a strike came.

Jon watched Rabbit’s face relax before a small smile crept up the copper plates. Hugging the older robot tighter, Jon closed his own receptors and listened. Not to the storm, but to the mechanical heart under his ear. To the steady tiss tiss tiss tiss of the piston heart that kept Rabbit alive. To the sturdy tick tick tick tick and answering tock tock tock tock of the gears that kept the inside of Rabbit’s chest active and moving. 

Rabbit was listening to his world that lived. And Jon was listening to a life that was his world. He couldn’t imagine trying to be without his brother. Rabbit was mean, and snarky, and rude, and weird, and stubborn. But he was his big brother. He looked out for Jon. And now, it was Jon’s turn to look out for Rabbit.

Neither of them noticed when Spine joined them at the window, smiling as they enjoyed a moment of peace. Life would move on in the manor. It would seem that the old saying held true; the third time’s a charm. 


End file.
